Unspoken
by Irken PopTart
Summary: A mild drabble Renkotsu and Jakotsu are sent to survey and judge an army PreReserection Story.


_**Disclaimer and Brief AN:**_

_**All of these characters are not mine- thusly the element of 'fan-fiction'. This is just a mild drabble that came to mind- and simply wouldn't go away. Just a character study of sorts- with suggestions of yaoi- Comments are greatly appreciated- Schinnin-tai and Inuyasha are (C) Rumiko Takahashi**_

It had been a long set of days, living here with this army... He began to wish for the foolishness of his own comrades, more than the collective idiocy of the camp he was in now. Men young and old- loyal to another who would be in power for as long as he could fend off the rest of the equally bull-headed daimyou.

Trudging in silence through the mud, ignoring the leering looks of the soldiers, he set out to the borders edge- and quite possibly to the only other being who could detest this situation as much as he could- though certainly, it was doubtful his visage would bear a similar scowl.

He found Jakotsu sprawled out across a large rock, sunning himself lazily, one knee brought up, an arm draped across his chest, as the other served to rest his head. The effeminate man paid him no mind, not even bothering to return the distasteful expression given in greeting- instead content to ponder useless things as he usually did.

He moved to stand aside the rock as a sort of irritated sentry, and once again he fell to an old pass-time, letting his narrowed eyes sweep lazily across the man beside him.

Their brothers in arms felt the two shared a sort of common dislike for one another- a sort of muffled hate- quelled by the sense of family. And would balk to the very suggestion of a connection of any sort...though Renkotsu never held much merit in the minds and thoughts of the other five.

It was true- when he first came to join this Shichinin-tai- this band of seven men- he was aghast at his companions actions... It went against everything he could expect of a great warrior- although the same could be said for all of them.

But more than Kyukotsu's massive size, Bankotsu's childishness, or Mukotsu's disturbing appearance- Jakotsu outdid them all.

Flaunting himself about in an eccentric manner, his yukata hiked up so far it was barely decent- not that wearing such a thing could be considered normal in -any- occurance. Lips and eyes painted to stand drastically out against his pale skin. His lust for blood seemed insatiable- and though it could be said that all of them loved killing- none experienced the sort of euphoria that Jakotsu did- Only Suikotsu came close to it- and he was mentally unstable.

To see Jakotsu- 'playing games' with these 'cuties' he sought out at each battle- acting like a boy, and throwing himself all over Bankotsu...No-one would consider the short-tempered man who dressed like a girl to be anything but a nuisance- a constant test of patience...

Of course- back then, he didn't see Jakotsu for what he was... He was blind to the shadows cascading across the light. It wasn't until he really began to look- that he ever saw them- and with the revelations that came with this sight- he was little less than amazed.

But now, it was all he could do not to. He found the other man an endless source of fascination- a twisted concoction of passionate rage and childish fury. A poisonous serpent dressed in colors of warning, twisting this way and that, flaring it's hood as it promised death, slow and painful.

What little he knew of snakes- was to respect them. If not confronted, they kept to themselves, and stayed clear of your path- it was only when you crossed them, provoked them...that they would strike.

"Mou...Are you going to stand straight as a post all afternoon?"

He must have looked surprised by the tone- not pitched high- but low and melodic, a soft and velvety sound which reminded him of miso soup.

His eyes moved slowly back to his companions face, watching the slow smile cross onto painted lips, he sat up patting the space beside him. Having no other frame of mind, Renkotsu complied, unfazed as Jakotsu laid out again, this time across his lap.

"You came to avoid the soldiers." He stated simply - breaking the new silence which seemed to have slowly grown between them.

Not even bothering to turn his head to look at him Jakotsu nodded tersely. "None of them is worth the time Oo-aniki."

He could not quite determine the proper response to these words- only gazing down into the dull grey eyes which bored back at him with an unreadable emotion...

How he hated those eyes, and sought them all the same... Jakotsu's eyes were the only thing he could not decipher... His movements, his breathing, the way the corners of his lip turned- all these signals he knew- but the eyes betrayed nothing. The damn things were like coal- like rock, or steel, hard, unfaltering, unchanged until the fires of lust heated them through.

The sounds of the soldiers approaching reached their ears, five- the sound of sake in their voices- harsh and power hungry thoughts flickering across their features.

Renkotsu simply sat back as Jakotsu turned his head, watching them with a curious sort of disinterest... He knew- as did Renkotsu, the soldiers were less than thrilled by their presence- to the eyes of these men- the famed and feared leader of the Shichinin-tai had sent the worst of his army. A monk, and a swordsman who could pass for a woman at first glance.

His eyes drifted back down to Jakotsu as the men ventured closer, beginning to cast out insults, cat-calls and jeers, suggesting Renkotsu send his woman out to give them company- that the monk return to his temple- and the whore to the brothel.

Jakotsu to most- seemed to pay them no mind, only lowering his eyelids as he relaxed, the corners of his lips turned down just a bit...

Renkotsu had to hide his own smile... Every soldier should be trained to watch for signs from their opponent- a tensing of the limbs, a nervous air...any whisper of a thought that they might attack. To be able to judge each move before it's made. But even the greatest soldier could not dream to read Jakotsu- he gave no indication-It was in battle he was most like a snake, where he would give no warning, no signal- and strike at the fools among men who would dare to challenge him to presume this wisp of a man in women's clothes, with such carefully painted features, could so easily end their lives with a barely perceivable flick of the wrist..

It didn't take long however before the taunts began to turn Jakotsu's blood to ice- for Renkotsu to notice how his mouth moved to a straight line, and the lashes of his eyes almost touched. He never saw the tension building up within his arms but he could feel it- and so he saw the first movement seemingly ages before it came.

With the two men unarmed- these fools had thought to make a name for themselves- felling two of the great seven- would certainly be an accomplishment- and the rice wine whispered the possibility of success. It could be done- Just a monk, just a 'woman'...Nothing to fear.

He only leaned back with a contented smile as Jakotsu sprung forward with all the grace of a cat, flipping himself over the head of the ringleader, and into the center of the assembled men. In the moment it took for them to register this first movement, Jakotsu's right arm had swept backword taking a katana from one of their own and beginning the dizzying and artful display of war.

This was a side of Jakotsu few others had privilege to witness- this was not the maniacal frenzy of bloodlust he was famous for- not the dangerous game he played when he singled out new prey- closing off all surroundings.

When the lust was not there- shining in coal grey eyes, he was the calm in a storm, grace displayed with every movement. Each step, each strike deliberate and calculated within a moment, like a tapestry- or the strokes of a brush upon parchment.

He often mused across the past of his companion- how he had learned this dance, who had conditioned him so carefully...but would never broach the subject.

Jakotsu himself wore an expression of uncaring, twisting, catching each strike, blocking, the sound of blade across flesh, the gurgle of blood, howls of pain. Wind, Steel, Dirt, Flesh.

This was what Jakotsu needed to be for the seven- This -demon-, effective, beautiful, and deadly... And this was why Renkotsu gave no levity in terms of the other man's performance in battles. He knew what the attack captain was capable of, and to see him acting like such a fool in the presence of the others was no less than an insult, and it was this fury that gave birth to the suspected hate between the two..

Sometimes he imagined it was the boy that did it... That this game the two played had to be kept up. Perhaps if he allowed his full potential- it would darken the boy's own spirit? Or perhaps it would frighten him- he had to take care to play the part, companion- brother, at times Jakotsu seemed to stick close enough to be his pet.

The sound of metal in dirt caught his attention, as Jakotsu finished his display, grounding the katana in the bloody soil, and returning to Renkotsu's side. The two men surveyed the blood covered ground, and the men strewn across it...

"..Then I suppose your decision has been made?"

Not so much as a glance back was his answer, and soon the both of them rose again, heading east- away from the camp and to the tree-line.

If not for his childish nature, Renkotsu would begrudgingly admit the boy was smart. Before each war- he would have Jakotsu judge sides...And it seemed, the feminine man always found the winning side...

The army expected the two had arrived to win the war for them- feeling they were worthy only of two from the seven, but Jakotsu had simply wanted a closer look. Once reunited with the others Renkotsu had no doubt they would return again to finish what the two had begun- long before the men started to search them out, the Schinintai would return - and by the next morning, little more than food for the worms.

He gave pause as they walked through the wood, turning to look back at Jakotsu. The younger man was still sprayed with blood, his hair falling free from it's up-sweep, with bangs foreshadowing his face, and hiding his eyes. The other man met his gaze, as he closed the distance between them, studying him in his own way, reading him, judging him, as if he were sinking his fingers down into the depths of Renkotsu's soul- the monk hated it- and loved it all the while..

The grey eyes seemed to draw him in, promising a poison worse than any Mukotsu could mix, and a danger greater than any youkai. The painted mouth was held in a straight line, but Renkotsu could see the sway in his stance, and almost hear the hunger that screamed in his blood- if only for the fact it echoed in his own.

He raised his hand to brush away the bangs from those hated eyes which now burned with the familiar fire, fingers lingering over his cheek until Jakotsu's hand snapped to grasp his wrist. His voice was dark and rich- uncontrolled, a rumbling purr despite the words that slipped from the painted mouth in protest.

"Bankotsu Oo-ainiki..."

Damn the boy.

Damn him to all the levels of hell, back and beyond.

The fire smoldered now in his own eyes, and he could feel it building up, threatening to become a blaze. but Renkotsu kept his face calm, his expression serious.. He would issue a challenge which would go unseen by the boy- he would go against Jakotsu's word- but he kept the respect there- and this was the only way he could live in peace with such a dark temptation.

He would offer upon the secrets the two of them already shared- of Jakotsu's nature, of his skills, his thoughts- upon the understanding between them.

"It goes unspoken."

With these last words, he fell forward into the darkness, crushing velvet lips, a tangle of limbs, cast into the fires of lust and tumbling to the ground to drown in the inky eyes of a painted snake.

They would return to the others in the early evening, having stopped at a spring to rid Jakotsu's yukata of most the blood and his hair of the leaves and twigs- despite Renkotsu's arguments of wasting time. The walk back was a silent one, no endearing whispers, brushes of skin, or long gazes. Never a word as they moved towards the campfire.

The more feminine man met their young leader with a squeal of his name, running to catch him in an embrace, while the boy only laughed, shoving at Jakotsu to move away.

Renkotsu looked on with his own painted expression- one of distaste, of irritation, or of fury at the childish nature. But the grey eyes swept back- and the red lips gave a smile only for him... This was his poison, his curse. He would forever play second to a bright-eyed child incapable of even accepting the offers given to him...

But not a word was ever uttered, for this was their understanding.

An agreement left unspoken.


End file.
